


Poolside

by HBingo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e03 The Great Game, Internal Monologue, M/M, POV Third Person Limited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9307958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HBingo/pseuds/HBingo
Summary: The Great Game's pool scene from Jim's point of view.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedOrchid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedOrchid/gifts).



Jim almost dies from holding back his laughter when he watches Sherlock wind his mind across the idea that John Watson might somehow indeed be smart. Of course Jim can't stand it for long, no matter how pretty a lie it is. He needs to see the look of recognition on Sherlock's face when he steps out. And it is glorious. Everything is worth it for that split second. Needless to say, Jim knows it will only get better from here, but he holds a moment more, to simply take in at his design and appreciate it. Sherlock looks perfect like this, all disheveled and frightened but determined. The contorting, reflective light of the pool licking over his cheekbones and complimenting his flashing, glacial eyes. He’s not so smug now, is he, with his little pet all wrapped up in symtex, with a trench-coat bow on top?

Sherlock’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows his panic reflexively, his hand on the Browning shaking minutely as he points it at Jim’s chest. Jim wants to sink his teeth into Sherlock’s throat - though whether to to rip it out as Sherlock screams in agony or alternatively to leave a possessive and sucking bruise as Sherlock moans his name, is something Jim just hasn’t decided on yet. Either idea sounds lovely. Both make him hard.

Jim almost wishes this could have gone on longer. Longer might have eventually led to it having becoming boring though and there’s little he hates more. No, this is much nicer. It's cleaner and has a subtle poignancy. It's also kind of morbid. So it's sexier. He's sure Sherlock must appreciate bringing them both back to the beginning this way.

But then Sherlock starts complaining about normal people dying and it annoys Jim a bit, because it's completely off topic. Who cares? Jim most assuredly doesn't. This isn’t about everyone else, this is about the two of them. Sherlock should know that by now. Jim isn’t even sure why Sherlock feels the need to bring it up. Dying is what normal people do. All the time. Like it's their job or something. Like they're all ants scurrying around on the curb, waiting to be crushed. It's the only reason they exist in the first place. Really, the way Sherlock keeps harping on about it is kind of making Jim slightly pissy at this point.

Jim almost rolls his eyes as Sherlock’s gaze flicks to John Watson, assessing his condition. Watson’s face is flushed with fear but he seems to take a small amount of steadying confidence from Sherlock’s look. Mundane. Obvious. The only reason Jim must have missed it before now is how absolutely uncompelling the good doctor is. Jim allows himself a fraction of a second to imagine pulling out the Leatherman multi-tool in his left pocket and efficiently gutting Watson; he’d kick Watson’s corpse into the pool, so that he and Sherlock could watch the water turn from it’s glittering sapphire to a satisfying ruby. Sherlock scowls, using his intellect to deduce the sweet fantasies preoccupying Jim, as they verbally dance around the subject of the missile plans. It takes all Jim has not to bat his eyelashes and ask ‘Who, me?’ coyly. Jim likes flirting, but he likes subtext more. Usually.

He takes the memory-stick Sherlock offers and kisses it tenderly. Something primal flashes behind Sherlock’s mask of concentration as Jim smiles, before he's tossing away Sherlock’s hard earned prize into the water and ruining it. He can't help the bubble of laughter from escaping him this time. Sherlock's little sneer is totally affronted and it's so adorable. He wants to invade Sherlock's space even more, wants to reach out and drag him forward by his stupid, ridiculous curls. Wants to kiss him while he whimpers in pain as Jim twists.

But then John Watson grabs Jim up, interrupting the moment, and suddenly Jim’s having significantly less fun. Sherlock is noticeably horrified for the safety of the triumphantly self-satisfied sounding Watson, flinching and repositioning his firing stance. Jim laughs aloud and controls the urge to reach back and gouge the doctor’s eyes out with his thumbs. Instead he reminds both of the other men of their precarious situation, via a red beam at Sherlock’s forehead. Watson doesn’t so much as let him go, as much as Jim shivers out of his grasp, trying not to dirty his Westwood at the look on Sherlock’s face. Sherlock has such an expressive face. Jim hopes he gets to bloody it some day.

But for now, he’s had his fill of games. He leaves the poolroom, but decides to watch for a little while through the door's glass windowpane. The two men flail over each other and fail at flirting so badly that it's painful. Jim is nauseated. Their vapid interaction is one of the most disgustingly unimaginative and banal sights he's ever witnessed. He's never considered that Sherlock could find something so obviously tedious to be an activity worth pursuing. Especially when Jim had been right in front of him just seconds ago.

So he comes back, because he's decided that he can and he wants another good laugh today after all. And blood. He wants to make someone bleed so bad, that he almost chokes on his words when he first steps back in. He's going to make Sherlock dance for him for just a second more - then Sherlock will realize that he likes to dance for Jim more than he likes playing happy family with that damn common brain. The world will explode around them both and John Watson will lose. That would make a thrice-over win for Jim. And three strikes is all it takes, isn't it?

When his phone starts ringing he struggles against tossing the damned thing into the pool after the memory-stick. Of course Irene Adler decides to call before Jim gets the chance to have his wonderful ending. Her request is aggravating, but something he thinks he actually does want to deal with. Maybe he can get a few more good runs out of Sherlock after all. With a last wistful look over his shoulder, Jim truly leaves. They'll have time to play later. Right now, Jim has a pair of shoes to make.


End file.
